Home one eve came Joe the Ostler with a cheery cry of “Wife!”
Finding that which blurred for ever all the story of his life
She had left a silly letter,—through the cruel scrawl he spelt;
Then he sought the lonely bed-room, joined his horny hands and knelt.
“Now, O Lord, O God, forgive her, for she ain’t to blame!” he cried;
“For I owt t’a seen her trouble, and ’a gone away and died.
Why, a wench like her—God bless her!—’twasn’t likely as her’d rest
With that bonny head for ever on a ostler’s ragged vest.
“It was kind o’ her to bear me all this long and happy time,
So for my sake please to bless her, though you count her deed a crime;